


Agāpe

by Batsymomma11



Series: Blark Files [20]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Bruce, Bisexual Clark, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Misunderstandings, Non-Traditional Relationships, SuperBat, agape love, minor language, neurodivergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 04:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsymomma11/pseuds/Batsymomma11
Summary: Clark tries to break their friendship off when he realizes he is deeply in love with Bruce--and Bruce may not be capable of returning his affections.





	Agāpe

**Author's Note:**

> Agape: In the Greek, 'brotherly love'. The 'highest form of love and charity'.
> 
> "It took me a long while to figure it out, why I didn’t feel the way everyone else seemed to feel about sex. It doesn’t do a whole lot for me, to be honest. I thought maybe it was women, so I switched to men, but it wasn’t all that much better. It’s… it was mechanical , almost. I was going through the motions but it wasn’t really doing anything for me. I could get off but I didn’t care about it. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me until I figured it out and then it was like a big, fat asexual ray of sunshine fell over me and it was glorious . But it felt better when I figured out that I wasn’t weird and that it was okay to not want sex like everyone else. But I like touching and I like kissing most of the time and I can be there for a partner should the situation… arise. Sometimes, I’ll even jerk off, and I’m told I give really awesome hugs."  
> T.J. Klune, How to Be a Normal Person 
> 
>  
> 
> I do not own DC or its characters. I do own this story. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

             Clark’s hands felt—strange on his face. Warm and dry with no callouses to speak of, but still firm to the touch. Strong. Bruce could feel the strength in his fingers like ripples gently lapping at his skin.

            “This—this isn’t a good idea, Bruce.”

            “Just kiss me and we’ll see.”

            “Bruce.”

            Bruce flexed his jaw, watching as Clark’s eyes flashed a deeper shade of blue, their color fathomless in the dusky lighting. The sun was dipping behind the branches of the trees, casting dappled light onto the grass they were sitting on. They were hidden, in the midst of the stretching bows, secluded from wandering parties or prying eyes. Safe from judgment.

            It was the best time for this. Perhaps, the only time. Bruce needed Clark and if Clark needed _this,_ then—maybe he could do this too. Maybe he could handle this for Clark.

            “It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel organic.”

            Bruce lifted a brow, “That’s because it isn’t. Kiss me, Clark. I’m ready.”

            “We shouldn’t be forcing this. _You_ shouldn’t be forcing this.”

            “Clark, we’ve gone over this. Several times now. I want you in my life and I—I can’t see any other way. We have to try.”

            “We could end things,” Clark murmured, one thumb brushing back and forth monotonously on Bruce’s cheekbone, his mouth flattening into a thin line.

            “No. We can’t.”

            “We could.”

            “I don’t want to,” Bruce exhaled, letting his eyes flutter closed as he felt the breeze comb through his hair and the heat of Clark’s hands, ever present, ever grounding, on his face.

            Bruce had never been a physical person. Not even as a child. He’d not understood then, what he was, or why. As an adult, he’d always attributed his lack of interest in sex or physical relationships to his schedule. His purpose. He was a busy man who’d already sold his soul to Gotham. He’d never gone any further in his assessment than that. There had never been any need to.

            Not until he’d sat across a table from his best friend who was telling him they couldn’t see each other anymore. They couldn’t make a friendship work when Clark was hopelessly in love with him.

            Bruce had floundered for a month.

            He’d panicked. Worried himself sick.

            And then—well, then—he’d decided there really was no reason he couldn’t at least _try_ to give Clark what he needed. He called Clark, offered him a glass of scotch and then promptly laid out his plans to attempt a physical relationship with Clark. Clark had, as predicted, been appalled by Bruce’s solution. Worse, he’d felt guilt and self-hatred for having put Bruce in such a position that he would even consider trying to alter his sexual identity just to keep his best friend.

            Bruce didn’t see it that way. Not really.

            He tried to explain. He fumbled his way through the words and felt the hot sting of embarrassment when he’d told Clark that he’d never really felt much of anything about sex.

Ever.

            He’d had sex, with several partners, all female—but that meant very little. Women and men, humans in general, were not a sexual object to him. Not even his own body was something of that much interest. And it wasn’t as though he disliked the act of sex at all. No, he could find enjoyment in the process. He liked the physical stimulation and felt closer to whoever he was partnered with. But it—it wasn’t the same for him as it was everyone else. He’d long suspected that something was wrong with him.

            He’d spent a great deal of time simply ignoring it.

            Until Clark.

            “It’s just a kiss.”

            “One you might not enjoy,” Clark frowned down at him, “I would never want that.”

            “Clark,” Bruce ground his teeth as frustration and impatience were beginning to win over logic. He was prepared to do this. He wanted to do this. No one could or ever would make him do something he didn’t want to do. Bruce was a stubborn man. He’d already dissected all the angles and the problems that might occur with him becoming intimate with his best friend and had decided the risks were worth the benefits.

            _He couldn’t lose Clark._

If there was ever a person, ever a man or woman that Bruce had felt closest to feeling normal with—it was Clark. He didn’t see Clark’s body the way Clark saw his—but that hardly mattered. He liked Clark. He _loved_ Clark. The sort of love he felt for his boys and for Alfred. Not a sexual love but something deep and abiding. Agape love. That had to mean something.

            “Bruce—we talked about this and I just—I don’t want to make this harder on you than it already has been. I mean, I knew you weren’t like that with me and I just couldn’t seem to help myself, despite having been friends for so many years—”

            Bruce made the decision for them.

            He was tired of feeling the anticipation thick in his veins and the worry of how it all might play out. He was done being cautious and overanalyzing.

            With a jerk, he brought Clark’s mouth hard into his and felt every muscle in Clark’s body go stiff in alarm. Bruce was no stranger to kissing, so he waited, lips pressed firmly but polite and patient as Clark adjusted and then—then softened against him.

            One of Clark’s hands moved to the back of his neck, a steady warm pressure, and the other dropped to Bruce’s low back, fingers wide and spread. Steadying. Then Clark deepened the kiss and Bruce easily accepted it.

            It was different than kissing a woman.

            Bruce could feel the slight rasp of whiskers on his cheeks and lips. He could smell Clark’s laundry detergent and taste the peppermint gum on his tongue. Bruce didn’t feel the way he was hoping he might, but he did feel far more than he usually felt in regard to physical intimacy. He felt warm, head to toe. He felt soft and—cared about? Adored?

Loved. He felt loved.

            And that was good. He liked it.

            Ribbons of that feeling spread from their mouths and Clark’s slow kisses to the hands that Clark was keeping in check, to the tips of Bruce’s toes and he leaned into the kiss, letting Clark know it was good. That he liked what was happening.

            Clark ended the kiss a moment later, his cheeks red and eyes glossy. He looked handsome like that. He looked happy. And that made Bruce smile, his chest tight with something finally better than the dread he’d been struggling with the last month.

            “Good?”

            Clark nodded, biting his lip, eyes shuttering closed as if to savor Bruce’s taste and Bruce tipped his head in curious amusement.

            “Please tell me you didn’t hate it.”

            Bruce snorted, “I didn’t hate it.”

            “But you didn’t like it?”

            “I didn’t say that either, Clark. I’m just—I’m different. Something about me doesn’t work like everyone else. I don’t feel attraction and arousal like you do. At least, I don’t need it. I can be aroused. I’ve been before. And if we kept kissing, I have no doubt I would have been aroused and possibly interested in sex—” Bruce trailed off and watched as Clark’s pupils expanded and his breath caught. “But sex isn’t something I need.”

            “Or want.”

            Bruce shrugged a shoulder. “I like being close to you. I like sharing the same space and making you happy. Watching how my body affects you is pleasant to me. Isn’t that a good thing?”

            “Bruce,” Clark was sitting on his heels, scrubbing both hands over his face, “I’m so far out of my wheelhouse on this, I have no idea anymore. I’ve never been with someone like you. I don’t want to fuck this up. Or worse, have you regret trying to make this work. You shouldn’t have to be the one giving like this.”

            Bruce hesitated, feeling his stomach flutter nervously when he reached out to initiate contact by holding Clark’s hand. Clark stiffened again, then stared down at their joined hands like they were an alien with three heads.

            “I love you.”

            Clark’s fingers twitched in his own, but he kept his head down, “Yes, but are you in love with me?”

            “What makes the difference between being in love and loving someone?”

            Clark looked up and frowned, “I suppose the difference is in the sexual aspect.”

            “If I was only a head, no sexual parts to speak of—would you still be in love with me? Would you still want me?”

            “Yes.”

No hesitation. None.

            The fluttering of nerves in Bruce’s stomach settled and turned into soft downy hope. “Then how is this any different? I’m not able to feel the same way as you, but I want you in my life. I depend on you the most. I love you. I love your mind and your heart and find everything about you endearing. I always have. It’s likely how we’ve gotten into this mess in the first place. When I stop to think about it, I can see how that might have been misleading.”

            “No, Bruce, you never lead me on.”

            “But I did hurt you.”

            “Not on purpose,” Clark said quietly.

            “Still—”

            “Bruce, have you ever talked to someone about how you feel about sex? Have you ever been to see a therapist or—”

            “I saw a therapist for years growing up. Alfred insisted on it. I never mentioned my sexual orientation or brought it up. It seemed a moot point.”

            “And now?”

            Bruce shrugged, “Now if you like, I can go back and speak with someone. I don’t mind talking about it. Would that make you feel better?”

            “It might.”

            They fell silent for long minutes, watching the light grow darker and darker and listening to the wind in the trees. Bruce still had Clark’s hand in his own and it was comforting to have him near. It was relaxing in ways he’d not ever thought it would be.

            “How would you see this working, Bruce? What would it look like?”

            Bruce shifted, getting closer, risking Clark’s tension as he leaned into his friend and drew warmth. It was getting colder and he’d not thought to bring a jacket. He’d not expected to stay out so long.

            “I suppose we would look like any normal couple.”

            “But?”

            “But we wouldn’t be. Not necessarily. I can give you the intimacy you want because I know it’s important to you. I don’t mind touching or kissing. I think it feels good and grounding. It feels like hugging does—comforting—if that makes any sense. As for sex, I see no reason not to do that too. But I may not want it as often you would like. I have to be in the right frame of mind for it. There’s a lot that happens in sex.”

            Clark was sitting so still Bruce wasn’t sure he was even breathing anymore.

            “You would tell me, if ever, and I mean ever, you wanted to end things and you didn’t want to be with me anymore like that, wouldn’t you? You would tell me if it became too much and you didn’t like sharing that sort of intimacy with me?”

            “Of course.”

            “I’m serious, Bruce.”

            “So am I, Clark. I wouldn’t lie to you and do things that were awful to me. I just—wouldn’t. I’m not built like that either. I’m selfish and rude. Brash. You know this. If I don’t like something, I’ll just tell you. It isn’t as though I won’t be getting off too. I’ve learned a few things about what I like over the years. I’m just not _always_ going to get off. Sometimes, we might do things that are just for you.”

            “And you wouldn’t mind that?”

            “No,” Bruce said honestly, tipping his head to rest on the meat of Clark’s shoulder. Clark felt like leaning into a heated brick wall, but it was still nice. “I’ve missed having you with me.”

            “I’ve missed you too, Bruce. Will this be enough?”

            “For me, yes. For you, I don’t know. But I hope so.”

            Bruce could feel Clark’s lips press into his hair, a soft pressure that was welcome and he sighed into it, body going lax and more tension draining from his shoulders and neck. God, he’d missed Clark. He’d missed everything about his aura and presence. His strength, his smell, and his laugh. All of it.

            “It’s enough, Bruce.”

            “And you will tell me if one day, it isn’t?”

            Clark laughed, a suspiciously wet laugh that sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “God, Bruce, I’m never going to be able to give you up. I just—I can’t do it either. I thought I could. I thought I was helping us both by staying away and trying to give you space. I thought—”

            “I know.”

            “But I can’t. I just can’t.”

            “We need each other,” Bruce said soft and sure, more sure than anything he’d felt over the last month of insecurities. “And we might do things different than other couples, that doesn’t mean we aren’t valid. That doesn’t mean what we have and will have isn’t real.”

            “I would die for you, Bruce.”

            Bruce smiled, tipping his chin up, letting his eyes find Clark’s, “And I would die for you.”

            “Bruce, I know it’s a lot to ask, but I—can I—”

            “Don’t ask. Just do. I don’t mind it.”

            “Like a hug?” Clark chuckled, shaking his head as they brushed noses and Bruce closed his eyes.

            “Yeah. Just about. It’s like hugging you with my lips. I like it. It feels good to me. Just not the same good as what it does for you. But still good.”

            When Clark kissed Bruce this time, there was no hesitation. No soft press of lips that was tinged with fear and uncertainty. This time, Bruce knew a little more about what Clark liked and he settled into the kiss easily. He let his teeth drag over Clark’s bottom lip, pleased by the sound of Clark’s breath hitching and the soft moan it produced. He liked how Clark tasted and lazily sampled it, edging nearer till he was almost sitting in Clark’s lap, his hands resting on Clark’s shoulders for support.

            By the time they drew away, Bruce could feel how much the kiss had affected Clark and felt a swell of satisfaction and pride that he’d caused that in his friend. In his—lover? Boyfriend?

            “Clark—” Bruce murmured, keeping his face close and enjoying the warm puffs of air Clark’s breath made on his cheeks, “What are we now?”

            “What do you mean?”

            Clark sounded breathless and terribly distracted. Bruce smirked at him. “Are we boyfriends? Partners? Friends with benefits?”

            At some point, Clark’s hands had found their way onto Bruce again and were anchored on Bruce’s hips, the tension heartening and warm. Acceptably enjoyable. “I—well we could—”

            “Clark, just say what you want. I won’t be offended.”

            “I want to be exclusive.”

            Bruce lifted a brow, “It’s funny you’d think I would have any interest in being with someone else considering my orientation.”

            “Right. But still. It’s nice to hear it.”

            “Alright,” Bruce nodded, “I’m yours. Exclusively. I won’t have sex with or kiss anyone else. Just you.”

            Clark’s fingers flexed on Bruce’s hips and Bruce gave in, moving the rest of the way into Clark’s lap. Clark made a startled noise, his voice going thick and strained in the back of his throat and Bruce froze.

            “Too much?”

            “No. Just—I’m a little—”

            Bruce had noticed that their kissing had excited Clark physically. He wasn’t oblivious. He just didn’t always compute those signs the same way others did. “Would you like me to help you with it?”

            “What?” Clark started, then laughed, “No. Not now. Especially not right now. I think we need some time to get used to each other and for me to get used to—to this. And what you need and how you need it.”

            “I wouldn’t mind.”

            “I would. I don’t want you to think you have to do that every time we’re together.”

            Bruce shrugged, “I know I don’t _have_ to. If I do something, it’s because I _want_ to.”

            “Still, to be on the safe side, I’d rather wait.”

            “Fair enough,” Bruce settled more firmly into Clark’s lap and adjusted till he could press his face into Clark’s neck, pressing the shell of his ear flat to Clark’s flannel shirt. He’d never done this with anyone before. Bruce was not a snuggler by definition, but perhaps he’d just not found the right person to do it with, because he was very much enjoying this.

            “Boyfriends.”

            Bruce hummed in response, nestling in tighter, feeling sleepy with the differences in Clark’s radiating warmth versus the cooler temperature of the air. “Whatever you want to call us or me, is fine, Clark. I’m yours.”

            Clark’s hands started stroking down his back, long fingers finding muscles and tracing them through his t-shirt. “It strange to think a month ago I was afraid I might never see you again. That we would be done. Ten years of friendship just gone.”

            “Thank God, we came to our senses.”

            Clark laughed and the vibration was a melody beneath Bruce’s ear.

            “Thank God. I—I really do love you Bruce. All of you.”

            Bruce felt the acceptance and warmth soul deep. He felt the rightness of being with Clark, of being ‘Clark’s’ more than he thought he ever could. The rest didn’t matter. It didn’t need to.

            “I love you too, Clark.”

           


End file.
